


Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

by Overnighter



Category: The OC
Genre: Berkeley, College, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overnighter/pseuds/Overnighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Seth’s thing, really. Seth’s the one that loves music, and knows all the indie bands....Ryan's missing Seth and the extra concert ticket isn't helping things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beachtree](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Beachtree).



This is Seth’s thing, really. Seth’s the one that loves music, and knows all the indie bands, and is always trying to drag him up to the Greek to see My Morning Jacket, or down to Freight & Salvage to see some guy with a bouzouki – an instrument that Ryan had never heard of and had to Google the next day; still, it was pretty cool – or over into the city to catch some act or other. For the past two summers that they’ve both been home from school, they’ve seen live music once or twice a week at least. 

But during the school year, Ryan doesn’t much bother. He’s too busy with school, and just trying to make it back home for dinner with Sandy and Kirsten and Sophie is an effort, let alone trying to figure out who’s playing where, and whether he likes the Black _Keys_ or the Black _Kids_. He misses having Seth around to keep it straight. 

It’s harder to keep up with Seth during the school year, too. They’ve managed to work around the time change, mostly. Seth is up late a lot, working on complicated projects and messing around with his roommates, and Ryan is still an early riser, using the quiet morning hours to sneak in a work out or grab a few hours of uninterrupted study time. They’ve gotten in the habit of using each other for study breaks – IM’ing while the coffee perks, or using email to have long, lazy conversations over the course of days and weeks. 

There was a period of time, even, when Seth was working on his portfolio in the studio at the end of the last semester, when he would habitually call Ryan to “walk him home.” Ryan got used to his cell phone ringing at eleven, twelve, even one in the morning. He grumbled about paper deadlines and late nights, but really he found the ritual comforting, even if he’d never admit it. 

So he’s not really surprised when his phone rings at seven on a Saturday morning. Annoyed, maybe, but not surprised. 

“What, Seth?” he mumbles into the phone, because no one else calls him this early in the morning, ever. 

There’s laughter on the other end of the phone, and Ryan’s about to thumb it off when Seth’s voice finally comes through, breathless and tinny. 

“Wait! Wait, don’t hang up. I know you’re pissed, but you are going to love me, Ryan. Love. Me.” 

“What did you do, Seth?” Ryan asks, immediately suspicious. 

The last time that Seth assured him that Ryan was going to “love him,” he brought home his friend Leeandra for Spring Break, sure that they would hit it off. She had dreadlocks, and this weird natural deodorant that sort of smelled like the urinal cakes in the dorm bathrooms, and her lip ring freaked Ryan out while she was giving him head. After that, he banned Seth from all love matches forever. 

“No, Ryan, this is amazing. You’re going to be so excited!” 

What Seth did, it turned out, was score two tickets to a secret show in the city for one of the few bands they both could claim as a favorite. 

Seth’s freshman-year roommate at RISD went to school with one of their younger brothers, and burned Seth a CD of one of their live shows, which he immediately downloaded for Ryan. It was sweet, and a little bit ironic, and happier than any single thing that Ryan could ever remember Seth championing before. He listened to it dutifully, as he did all of Seth’s new discoveries, but he then he found himself listening over and over again. He meant to keep it a secret, but then Seth found his “most played” list on his iTunes last time he was home, and gloated about it for months. 

The thing is – the thing he never explained to Seth – was that he thinks of it as his “Berkeley music.” The lyrics are complicated, and a little bit melancholy, but the music is happy. He likes the juxtaposition, and he likes what it says about Seth’s new life in Rhode Island that Seth liked it, too. It’s a change from sad songs by lonely boys, from driving, angry rap music or classic-rock nostalgia. It sounds like a new start. 

Ryan is excited. They hardly every tour, this band, since they’re a side project of a much bigger pop band touting Eighties riffs and ironic power pop. He likes them, too - even if Seth claims they make his ears bleed - but not in the same way. He’s excited all the way up until the moment that Seth informs him that the concert is in two weeks, right before the end of the semester – and right before Seth is coming home. 

“I know, it sucks. It sucks so hard. I totally want to be there, but I’ve got this Graphic Design final that’s kicking my ass,” he apologizes. 

Ryan sighs. 

“Why did you buy tickets, then?” he asks. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the thought, he does, but he’s not sure what Seth expects him to do about it. “I mean, did you check and see if they’re playing at all on the East Coast?” 

He’s gotten used to reports of Seth’s road trip up and down the coast on weekends, seeing bands in tiny venues and dive bars that would never in a million years have made it to the Bait Shop. He’s glad that Seth has friends out there, aside from Summer, people that seem to get him more than anyone in Newport ever did. 

“Oh, yeah, we’re going to road trip down to Brooklyn next semester. They’re doing a show at The Bell House the weekend after I get back from vacation. So I’m not too bummed. I just wish that I could go with you. It would have been cool.” 

Ryan shakes his head a little bit, then realizes how foolish it is. It’s not like Seth can see him. 

“Wait, you bought them for me?” 

It’s one of the great mysteries in life that Seth still has the power to surprise Ryan, to surprise them all. Just when he’s calling at seven in the morning, and whining about his tough courses and texting Ryan thirteen times in ten minutes about how much this week’s _Gossip Girl_ sucked three hours before Ryan will get a chance to watch it, he turns around and does something unexpectedly, well, sweet. 

“Sure. I know they’re your favorites. Consider it an early Chrismukkah present from me to you.” 

Ryan is touched, really, but he’s sort of over sweet. 

“What the hell am I supposed to with them if you’re not here?” he snaps. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s never been to a concert without Seth, and the idea of it seems – disloyal, almost. 

There’s a pause, and then he hears another laugh, more tentative than the last. 

“You do have friends, right, Ryan? You’re not just, like, paying guys to hang out with you while my dad’s walking across campus? Because that will require more help than a couple of concert tickets can get you,” he says finally. 

Ryan laughs despite himself. There’s scuffling on the other end, and he hears Summer’s voice in the background, shouting, before Seth yelps in his ear.

“Ow! Ow! Summer, knock it off,” he howls, then addresses Ryan again. “Summer says take a date. She says to remind you that you’re supposed to woo woman, not just let them give you he—ouch! What do you want me to call it, _oral pleasure_? – give you head in the park and then never call them again. She just thought it was a point I should make to you. Ouch! God, your elbows are so pointy. I – I have to go, Ryan, but the tickets should be there in a day or two. Bye.” 

He hears a clatter as Seth’s phone drops, and more laughter in the background. He finally disconnects before he accidentally hears Seth and Summer have sex again. 

He takes Summer’s advice because it’s easier than not taking it and asks his friend Kayla to go with him, even though it still feels weird to him. She’s Ryan’s friend in part because of Seth’s music, after all. She wandered into his room freshman year because she heard one of Seth’s mixes on the stereo, and they bonded over music. It was still amazing to Ryan some days that he has opinions on things, now, that he can talk about concerts and venues and lyrics and not feel like an impostor. 

She’s also Ryan’s friend, however, because she takes school as seriously as he does, so he can’t be too mad at her when she calls him in tears three hours before they were supposed to leave. 

“... group project, and the girl just, like, dropped out of school! Completely. We’re so screwed. We’ve got to do her part, too – it’s going to take all night...” 

Ryan feels so bad that he ends up stopping by Caffe Strada and picking up coffee for Kayla and all her partners in the project. He hates group projects for this reason – if someone flakes, everyone else gets screwed. They’re all huddled around a table in the student union, dressed for battle in sweatshirts and bare feet. Kayla’s even got her glasses on. She looks up when he approaches, and her face falls when she sees him. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands. 

“Um, I brought coffee?” he says, and three or four more heads pop up from the table. 

“For us, man, seriously?” a tall, redheaded guy asks, and Ryan hands over the carrier to grateful murmurs. 

“I felt bad,” he admitted. “I just wanted to see if there was anything that I could do to help.” 

She kisses him on the cheek, then starts pushing him towards the door. 

“Go, you have to go. I feel bad enough that I’m blowing you off – and missing the show. If you miss it too I’ll never forgive myself. Please go. You can tell me all about it tomorrow, if I’m not dead.” 

He startles. It never occurred to him that he could go alone, and something on his face must give him away, because Kayla laughs at him a little bit, then kisses his cheek again. 

“You’re sort of amazing, you know that? I know it sucks going alone, but it’s got to be better than not going at all, right? Besides, this way I get a blow-by-blow record – it’s almost like being there.” 

She’s smiling at him despite the bags under her eyes, and he can tell she’s genuinely upset at the thought of ruining his night. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes, and then nods his head. 

“Fine,” he says, “But I want a rain check.” 

She grins, and waves the cup of coffee the redheaded guy put into her hands at him. 

“You bet. Tomorrow, even. It looks like I owe you coffee anyway.” 

He makes it to the BART with a few minutes to spare, and spends the ride trying not to think about being alone. Seth likes to drive into the city when they see a show, in case it runs late, so it’s different than the other times, which helps a little. When he gets into the city, he takes the cable car, even though it’s not the fastest way to North Beach, because he loves the steep climb up the hill with the Christmas lights winking on all around him. 

The venue is at the bottom of a long hill, in the heart of North Beach on Columbus. There’s a crowd milling around outside, and Ryan almost turns back when he sees the long line, but he wants to have a story to tell Kayla tomorrow, wants to be able to call Seth and give him all the details of his gift. He just joins in, keeping his head down. 

As he gets closer to the front doors, he sees a group of girls a little younger than he is pleading with one of the bouncers. 

“Please, this is, like, all she wants in her _whole life_ and we could only get two tickets,” one of the girls is saying. “Can’t you just let us sneak her in?” 

The bouncer is shaking his head unsympathetically, and Ryan notices that all three girls are wearing homemade concert t-shirts, the band’s name and lyrics from his favorite song drawn on in thick, black Sharpie. 

“Hey, man,” he says easily as the bouncer checks his i.d. and stamps his hand, “Can you do me a favor?” He slides the extra ticket over the little podium and nods over at the girls, who are now crying by the side of the tour bus in a sad little huddle. 

The bouncer looks up at him in surprise. 

“You don’t want anything for them? At least give it to them yourself so they know who to thank,” he says, but Ryan shakes his head. 

“Nah, they were a gift anyway. Let them think it’s a miracle.” 

The bouncer shrugs and says, “Your dime, buddy,” but when Ryan walks up to the bar inside, the bartender just shakes his head with a grin and hands over a longneck. 

“On the house,” he says, “For the miracle worker.” 

Ryan takes his beer and goes to stand against one of the padded walls, off to the side with a good view of the stage. It still feels weird to be here alone, but the place is rapidly filling up, and the people around him are ignoring him benignly. He reads a plaque on the wall in the dim light that says the bar used to be a burlesque club, and he can sort of see it still, in the elaborate ceiling and the leftover, crushed-velvet décor. 

He pulls out his phone to turn it off and instead, on impulse, dials number three on his speed dial. 

“Hey,” he says, “I’m here, and it’s weird without you.” 

There’s silence for a minute, and then he hears Seth’s familiar laugh. 

“Wait, are you calling me _before_ the concert even starts? Because you know that’s not how concert calls work, right?” 

Ryan smiles and settles back against the wall, explaining the fiasco with Kayla and her study group. He doesn’t even notice he’s alone until the house lights dim, and the guy next to him starts glaring through his little square, black glasses. 

“I gotta go, Seth. It’s gonna start. I’ll call you after,” he says, and Seth’s answer is lost as the band comes out on stage. He spies the three girls from outside front and center under the lead singer, arms linked as they jump up and down with excitement. 

The lead singer introduces their first song to the cheers of the crowd and Ryan takes a long pull of his beer, closing his eyes as he lets the music fill the empty place beside him.


End file.
